One critic described it as "Unsettling and grimy by turns. I left feeling
soiled and strangely elated for it. Great fun. Heres my
story .

On May 1st, 2010, I was treated to a hyper-personal piece of theatre entitled
An
Intimate History, performed by
Jake
Oldershaw. Described as theatrical Russian Roulette, I was
given a menu of six items from which I could choose my theatrical experience.
Being greedy, I chose two. Seeking adventure, I chose one that cast me as the
object of a fishermans affections.

In To Be King was Once My Dream, I was asked to sit on a cushion in the
middle of a darkened theatre space. A pianist sat at a white piano and the
singer approached me from behind and sang very close to my ear. I could feel
him breathe. I could smell him. I was very uncomfortable! I dont remember
much of the beautifully haunting sea ballad, as I was concentrating so hard on
where to look, what to do with my hands, wondering: how did he make sure his
breath was minty fresh? There was a projection of a sea scene on the wall. I
was asked to move off the pillow, lie on the ground and put your head
on my chest. Eek! I listened to the music. I could feel the singer
breathe. I could smell him. I could feel his heart beat. I fought the urge to
laugh. The words were:

Upon his chest she put her head
She listened to his life
His life breathing in and out
In and out she listened
And with her head upon his chest he sung to her,
He sung to her
The sweetest song, the sweetest song
And she listened to
The song of a lonely fisher man

Next, we stood and he sang of his final days with the beautiful girl. He set
the glitter ball in motion and soon we were hand-in-hand, spinning in a circle,
first right, then left, then right, then left, then, dizzyingly in a full
circle. I tried really hard to listen to the words, I really did, but I was
dancing under a glitter ball with a man Id just paid five pounds to
meet. Suddenly it all stopped and the final, plaintive verse was sung. I
was guided to the door and sent on my way by the lonely fisher man.

The second installment I chose was called The Mayor of Strasbourg's
Passions. I chose it because of its French setting; I love France. In the
same darkened studio, this time I sat at a table with the story teller, who
offered me a slug of wine. There was a floral patterned floor lamp beside us.
He told stories of various sad denizens of Strasbourg, including a butcher, the
wife of a café owner, and a young man who waited on the street corner
with flowers each day. I was a bit more comfortable in this performance, but
still found eye contact a challenge. I thought it was a bit of a let-down after
the fisher man story, but the piece built in intensity as he told of the female
Mayor of Strasbourg: And you cannot see her tears, for you know that
mayors never cry. A spotlight appeared and he stood and sang of the
mayors dreams. The song grew very intense, and once again, he reached out
to me and brought me into the spotlight. Suddenly the pronoun switched from her
to him and I had become the mayor of Strasbourg and now it was my turn to
realize my dreams. The singer turned his back and produced a Polaroid camera,
taking my photo and handing it to me with a challenge of seizing what lies
ahead. Very powerful and profound, if still a little awkward.

The piece is written by Craig Stephens, based on the 1994 book An Intimate
History of Humanity by Theodore Zeldin.

The Mayor of Strasbourg's Passions
Along down the Rue Escargot
Cross Boulevard Fointainbleau
Through showers of white blossom rain
The Mayor of Strasbourg sails by.
And you cannot see her tears
For you know that mayors never cry
And before you sweep a glance
The space between you passes by.